


You're Beautiful, I'm Afraid

by Sweetlittlelwt



Series: Read To Me, Sweetheart [1]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Fluff, I obviously suck at tagging so bare with me, Louis is sick, M/M, Mention of smut, Strangers to Lovers, hows that for a change?, louis is harry's baby, mention of anxiety, mention of depression, this is kind of sad, triggering warning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-20
Updated: 2016-01-20
Packaged: 2018-05-15 02:46:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,446
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5768395
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sweetlittlelwt/pseuds/Sweetlittlelwt
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thank you for crying flowers into my chest, hoping a forest would bloom there from the strength of your love.</p><p>I was beautiful once, and you made me feel beautiful once again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You're Beautiful, I'm Afraid

**Author's Note:**

> Hi, my names Mechelle and I'm a failed writer, nice to meet you (:
> 
> Now that introductions are out of the way, I hope you enjoy this work of fiction that I've thrown together, put my heart and soul into in hopes of effecting someone the way this work effected me.
> 
> Disclaimer: There is a triggering warning on this book, as it deals with the heavy topic of life threatening diseases and loss. The disease mentioned in the book is REAL and I did do research on the disease mentioned. However, I am not a doctor, nor am I saying that this is how it is for EVERYONE who has it. I shaped and maybe over exaggerated some aspects of the disease to fit MY CHARACTER mold to the plot. However, if you felt I was way off, I SINCERELY APOLOGIZE.
> 
> That's the great thing about fiction though, I can be wrong and I can falsely represent something if it works in my book ( NOT THAT MEAN TO DISCREDIT OR MAKE FUN OF OR CAUSE ANY HARM FROM THIS) I'm just stating an opinion.
> 
> With that being said...
> 
> The book is written in Louis' P.O.V in first person, to show how he feels and reacts to what's going on around him.
> 
> I sincerely hope you enjoy.   
> If you want to chat, pop on over to   
> Twitter: Sweetlittlelwt  
> Tumblr: Sweetlittlelwt.tumblr.com  
> And you can even follow me on One Direction Amino: Sweetlittlelwt
> 
> My goal was to make you feel something, and I hope I succeed! Happy reading x.
> 
> This is not beta'd so, all mistakes are my own.
> 
> All the fucking love - Mechelle x.
> 
> This is all fiction! In no way am I implying that any of this is real, nor do I claim to know One Direction or anyone at Modest, or Sony/Syco. I do not own One Direction (but I wish I did) okay, carry on.

You're Beautiful, I'm Afraid  
Sweetlittlelwt

How unfair, it's just our luck  
Found something real that's out of touch  
But if you'd searched the whole wide world  
Would you dare to let it go?  
Not About Angels - Birdy

"The world loves to destroy beautiful things... and you're beautiful, I'm afraid."

 

The world has always been unfair it seems.

It's dark and cold and deprecating, with the smallest glimmers of beauty in the places you wouldn't expect – and I guess that's what makes life worth living. Finding those beautiful instances of light, sound, and love or becoming one of them in fact. But me, I wasn't beautiful. I was just a normal boy with normal brown hair, normal blue eyes and a disease called Amyotrophic Lateral Sclerosis or (ALS) for short.

It's kind of funny looking back at sixth form now, trying hard to be different with the bright colors I wore, the spenders laced over my torso every day and the cheery

loudness to my voice. I was above and beyond to put it quite simply; I wanted to stand out from the crowd.

Turns out, it wasn't that hard.

I've always known that there were a lot of things different about me. I couldn't sit still in my seat during class, couldn't stop the twitch in my fingers or the urge to make a silly face when the teacher turned her back. I couldn't help but stare at the older boys, which turned into a couple confusing years of depression and mild anxiety before I finally came out to my mum in the summer of 2012.

It was anti-climactic.

I was fortunate enough to have her pull me into her warm embrace, press a kiss to my forehead and tell me she would love me no matter what. The rest is basically history. There was of course, the teasing of me liking older boys, the panic attacks and protectiveness when going on dates, the usual a parent would due under any circumstances.

The second year of Uni is really when everything changed, 

stopped

flipped upside down.

I can still remember feeling the swings of a baseball bat against my skull, I still feel the stream of tears falling down my cheeks as I lay in my bed – frozen, muscles tense and straining to move but I could not make myself. I could think to move my arm, and have the action happen and that scared me. 

I hadn't known what to do.

There were days I couldn't walk five steps without falling to the ground in pain... and I would just curl up in a tight ball, pull my knees to my chest and cry until I lay in a puddle of my own tears; with stinging puffy eyes, and eventually I would fall asleep that way.

It wore me down. It felt as if I was carrying weights that were shackled around my ankles, and with each step I took, my ankles shook and cracked. I was scared my knees would give out under me if I sat two long – which meant, rudely standing up in the middle of lectures and trying to keep my balance as I took notes.

And then I was diagnosed.

They say your life only changes when you stop being able to do the things you once could do, and I guess I never really understood that until that day – Because, even if you were in old age, you could still go for midnight drives, you could enjoy the beaches on quiet days and you could dance to whatever music you wanted to. There were always parts of your youth you could keep in your pocket, and revisit through Polaroid's and grainy cheap camera film.

But when the doctor told me that I wouldn't live more than five years – that's the moment my life changed.

I couldn't plan for a future with a nice guy who I could bring home to mother, and one day hope become a husband and a father... I couldn't even think about adopting a pet, or setting up any kind of long term plans that exceeded this limit. I wouldn't own a house, I wouldn't accomplish my dreams of being a professional actor

But I would be writing my will at the age of 26 years old.

I could only prepare for my death, but how does one go about doing that?

My plan was to detach myself. I couldn't let my mother be by my side and watch me wither away like a flower. She couldn't watch my petals fall to the ground, brown and be swallowed up whole by the cruel world. I didn't want her to see my body change and grow frail, like a thirsty plant dying of dehydration – a lone rose in a desert where he didn't belong.

So, life is unfair, but that's okay.

She cried and cried, begged for me to just let her in. She needed to hold her baby, but I was no longer her baby. I was only what's left of what the ALS took. I was the bone and fresh, not the vibrant skin and ginger smile. I was the pieces of hair falling to the ground, and the stress under swollen, lost eyes.

I was no longer myself.

I could no longer do anything for myself.

I couldn't work, because I couldn't count on my body moving at my accord. I couldn't count on my knees not giving out, or my muscles not tensing up and leaving me paralyzed... sometimes for an hour, sometimes for a couple minutes.

There's a lot of time to think, to be lonely and to ponder when they day will come. When my mother won't call anymore, when my sisters won't tear up every time they see my face, when people will stop asking me if I am happy – because happy does not exists. Distraction does.

I am neither happy nor distracted. I am simply here. Not living, just simply alive.

 

It was a Tuesday when we met.

It was quite possibly one of the saddest days of my existence. Not for the reasons you may be thinking... but because here was an angel presented to me in the form of a passerby-er. He kneeled beside me when I fell to the ground unexpectedly in the grocery store, he looked me right in the eyes, and he said, "Are you okay? Let me help you up."

Then he did.

He didn't laugh, he didn't blush when the people passing by chuckled their way out of the aisle – he just looked at me, keeping a hand on the small of my back as we walked through the aisles – and anytime I would lose my balance, he was there to catch me.

His eyes were like stars, because they held such a passionate spark I assumed used to be in my eyes. His smile was a city full of lights, and his dimples, the craters of the moon.

His name is Harry, Harry Styles... and he is the small piece of beauty I didn't expect to find.

You see, he wasn't just alive. He was living, and he was doing a damn good job of it. He was moving from place to place all the time, something I couldn't do without assistance anymore. He was always talking, always deep in thought, always smiling at the stars and asking the sun questions. He was taking Polaroid's of us... of me, and hanging them on the walls. He was staring at the walls like they would talk back when he told them his dreams – and I would only listen, only flick my eyes back and fourth when the pain was to unbearable for me to speak.

He understood that.

He would just grab my hand tight in his, and say a color.

It was a signal.

Green was good, yellow was okay, and Red was bad but Purple was the worst.

Purple meant that I could only curl in a ball and physically feel another part of myself wither away and he watched. He watched as my hair thinned, and my lips chapped and my eyes went pale and it was selfish of me. I was being selfish because I didn't want him to see me this way but I could not let him leave...

Somewhere along the way, I fell in love with him but I asked him to never say those words to me.

He'd ask, "Why can't I tell you. It's not something that's just going to away Louis."

And I'd shake my head no, and say "Because, the world loves to destroy beautiful things... and you're beautiful, I'm afraid." And his eyes would shine like glass with tears, like green streaks of water colors that I was willing to drown in. "We're only going to break each other's hearts."

 

The doctors say I have one full year before it's determined that I would die.

I can't find it in myself to do anything expect curl up next to him on the days that he's home, and cry myself to sleep on the days that he's not.

When he is here, he would hold me so close to his body that radiated heat and safety and sing me to sleep. "You are my sunshine... my little sunshine... you make me happy when skies are grey." But he would never get through the song without bursting into tears, and then we would both cry until we were all out of tears, until we fell asleep.

Because on the day we first met, I should have told him why I kept falling over. And on our first date, I should have told him why I couldn't move from the table, and on our first full month of being together, I should have explained to him why I would burst into tears... but I wanted someone to love me, and he was so willing.

I destroyed something beautiful.

He walks around with bags under his eyes, but it seems that nothing can wipe the smile off his face and that seem to keep me going somehow.

And he would kiss me and touch me like I was delicate, fragile china that had to be protected at all costs. He grips my clothes like I would slip through his fingers, and he would unbutton my jeans carefully – as if to not make as to make subtle movements with my body and he would fuck me slowly, and steady and he would call me beautiful and it would all be okay for a while.

He would never ask for more than I could give... And I had little to offer.

He would clean me off and we would go to sleep, curled up in one another. Those were the only nights I didn't cry, because I didn't have the energy to. My body would feel weightless but my heart was heavy in my chest with the knowledge that I could never make him happy. I could never make him feel what he makes me feel. I could never marry someone like him, or adopt babies and buy a house and plan vacations to the states where we bathe in the sun.

The dreams were vivid when I dreamt of him, and I would wake up with tears in my eyes and my body would shake so much that my muscles would tense and glue me to the stop. I would tell him as much as I could remember, which got harder with each dream, and he would only nod slightly and offer me a smile.

I destroyed something that was beautiful.

 

Just another six months until I depart, but I've come to terms with it, I think.

Or I thought.

And then Harry said it.

"I love you, I'm sorry... but I do and I can't hold it off anymore." and he had tears in his eyes, like it was physically hurting him. "I can't lay to rest knowing it's on the tip of my tongue, when the only thing I want to do is scream it from the rooftops, and kiss it into every inch of your skin and bruise it on your heart so that you know."

I had felt every single fibre of my being break into a millions pieces and scatter on the ground.

"Before you leave me... I had to tell you Louis Tomlinson, that I love you and I'll love you til' the day I die."

I hadn't cried that hard, hyperventilated that much in months it seemed - I could not make myself stop. I had no control over any emotion that was scrambling my inside and pounding in my head, but our whispered I love yous made my heart swell to the size of a watermelon in my chest and burst wide open and he could only hold me through it and whisper his apologies and his love.

He could only whisper that I was it for him... That he would never love another person the way he loved me.

That only broke my heart.

I wanted to die in my bed, underneath the warm covers, wrapped up in the person I loved and the person who loved me back. I asked him this, and he said that he wishes he could die in my arms to.

I locked myself in the bathroom for a couple hours, curled in a ball at the bottom of the shower while the scalding water burned my skin and striped me of my sins. I was clean, I was purified, but it was only an illusion because there he was, sitting at the table with tired eyes and pale lips and the bills that kept piling up.

And I said, "You could find somebody better."

And he shook his head, his bouncy curly hair shining under the kitchen lights and he offered me a sad smile – one that could rival my own. "You don't get it... there is no one better."

And it hurt to hear those words because, he deserved someone better.

 

So I guess I'm writing this for Harry Styles.

Because I loved him when I couldn't love myself.

And he loved me when I couldn't love him back.

And I want to say thank you for letting me lay in your arms, in your tight embrace and thank you for leaving me with the memory of your soft lips as I took my last breath. Thank you for crying flowers into my chest, hoping a forest would bloom there from the strength of your love.

I was beautiful once, and you made me feel beautiful once again.

Fin.

**Author's Note:**

> I'M SORRY.
> 
> please don't kill me...
> 
> Moving on, I'd like to thank anyone who read and enjoyed this work! Your comments are always appreciated - even if I received none, go and do it now so I don't look lame AF. lmfao.
> 
> Anyways, I just wanted to inform you guys about this book series i'm working on now called Read To Me, Sweetheart. It's basically a collection of books to combat writer's block, and to get my little sweet oneshots posted! However, these books do not directly relate to each other and or/ their plots so you can read these in whatever order you want!
> 
> This is Book__ so check out the others! [ Coming Soon ]
> 
> And of course, if you want to chat or if you'd like to murder me or sacrifice my ass:
> 
> Twitter: Sweetlittlelwt  
> Tumblr: Sweetlittlelwt.tumblr.com  
> And you can even follow me on One Direction Amino: Sweetlittlelwt
> 
> All the fucking love - Mechelle x.
> 
> You can see the trailer here https://youtu.be/wAAxtglk1z0


End file.
